The Darker Side of my Heart
by Dreams-of-Red
Summary: Vincent meets a lovely stranger on the beach one night. Could the woman in black silk be his lost love, Lucrecia?
1. 1

Tears edged in blood,   
No one......no one has ever loved me before  
My prayers have been answered..  
In scarlet indifference..  
Whats the point of living?  
  
  
  
The Darker Side of My Heart  
  
The rose dropped from his fingers into the soft white foam of the gentle waves. The seashore was beautiful, the fine sand shone silver in the moonlight. The air was still and edged with a hint of frost. He watched it being tossed about..Its fragile dark crimson petals tearing off without much resistance as it was battered against the shore, then seductively pulled into the sea....to death.  
~Bitter irony...I am that rose~  
Memories floated softly through his consciousness..soft edged smiles, sunlight. Then disorder violently flooded his mind...The nights he had spent lamenting over her cruelty.   
  
~Her passion.~  
  
His loss. Tears laced with surges of overwhelming joy..Emotions like the small light sees of a dandelion, lost on the winds of seclusion and fate.   
He walked. With no regard for the undaunting cool water that swirled up around his feet and receeded every few steps. Turning up the collar of his overcoat, he set his idle gaze on the unending ripples of sand steetched out before him, and foused inward..  
  
~On the memories~  
  
He saw again that night, the details carved into marble, untouched in their perfection. A whisper..or a moment of pure silence, it was both and the same, but in the frozen moment his eyes, in their blood red spendor, were called upon a lone figure. The sounds of the softly crashing waves dissapeared.  
  
~She is so familiar..~  
  
Beautiful, in flowing silks that covered almost her whole body, as if with a touch of modesty. Watching the ocean with mournful honey brown eyes. A black spiral bound book in one hand, held to her protectively.  
  
And within that time..that space in reality when time loses meaning, that oblivion, was the woman suddenly urged to tears. She felt an overwhelming surge of pain as she glanced at him. An unspeakable sadness stirred within her,but not understanding it, she pushed its company away, let it observe in the threatening quiet of its existance.  
Their glances touched, then shied. Both winced from the light after knowing darkness for so long.  
As he fixated his gaze back on the ground, (and she on the ocean) He was suddenly struck. He realized with mixed emotions who the goddess with him this night on the shore was, and he looked at her again, this time not mindful of his instense stare.  
  
~Lucrecia....~  
  
She did not look back again.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
He sighed. Something powerful interviened and connected the two people there on that fine silvery sand with an untouchable bond. Why? She was not the woman he let die at Nibelhiem. But how could she not be? Every detail the same. Except for her glasses, which were now replaced by dark shades. But it was behind those shades, in her eyes that he knew his truth was taunting him. Waiting for him to grasp what was jut beyond his reach..to unravel the mystery..He shook his mind from his present worries and turned again to that night...  
  
Vincent was torn. Half of him wanted to run up to her and embrace her. To tell her how sorry he was. To tell her how much he still loved her, and how he was not going to repeat his mistake....But then his logic kicked in, and that part warned that Lucrecia was dead. Even if she really were alive, she could not look that young. Besides who are you to ask for her forgiveness? Monster. The cycle started again, this time at a speed which blurred his senses. So outwardly composed and cold, and fighting a raging war with his heart on the inside. Sometimes he himself wonderd how he kept his mask so flawlessly.   
  
He decided not to think for a moment, then do whatever fate thought best.   
  
After a full minute, he made a quick decisive goal,and he walked up to the woman.  
  
"Lucrecia?"   
  
The woman just looked at him. He was not prepared for silence, and looked away.   
  
"Look, I just...Well, I thought you were..dead. "  
  
That really was the surface question that might have been the most appropriate to ask.   
  
"I am."  
  
Vincent was taken aback by the comment. That, and the total lack of recognition in her face. It hurt him. Had he really changed so much?  
  
~Monster. See her fear?~  
  
He then turned over her comment. ..I am.. It made no sense, so he decided to put it aside.  
  
~Do not trust him, he wants to hurt you~  
  
"W-Who are you?"   
  
In a blinding second he considered lying about himself. Inventing a name, a past, an excuse. She would never have to know that he was the same man who did not interviene in that horrible experiment, perhaps they could....  
  
He looked over at her  
  
"Vincent. Vincent Valentine..? You dont remember me?"   
  
He expected her to remember. Everyone expected things of her. Sometimes she got so sick of it she wanted to scream.She had never seen this man before in her life. She was certain of it. Though something about him....  
  
"no."  
  
He looked down, sure that she was lying.  
  
~ I should have known. She never could love someone like me. A killer. I should give up. But no, I can't live with more regret, I must somehow make her understand~  
  
Suddenly, she spoke. Unexpected after the long silence that had stretched between the two..both lost in their own thoughts.  
  
"I am Merlose. I do not know you...just go away."   
  
She was suddenly afraid of the emotions his presence caused. She just wanted to remain alone and lost in a *familiar* place..instead of in a place where things waited, uncovered in the shadows.  
  
Vincent was speechless, not an uncommon trait of his. His resolution crumbled, and he turned his gaze downwards, and turned around, determined to just leave her there. It took a lot of willpower not to do someting stupid and femine like shedding tears. ~Merlose, Merlose...Who are you?~   
  
He got only a dozen steps away, when he heard light quick footsteps jog after him. He stopped, but did not turn around.   
  
"I'm sorry, I didnt mean to say that."   
  
She caught up with him, breathing a little heavier than normal though she only ran for a few moments, but it wasnt the physical exertion. She saw him walk away, and suddenly she couldnt let him just go and erase him from her memory. She was afriad she had hurt him. He seemed so fragile to her.  
  
Vincent almost smiled. Today was for contadictions of thoughts. A moment ago he had his heart despairingly set on leaving..and before that, on not losing her a second time, and before that...  
  
"Dont be sorry. It was my fault for wrongfully confronting you."   
  
She said nothing, and just studied him for a long moment, filled with nervous quiet. She twisted a strand of her long browm hair, if for no reason than to do something other than nothing. He reminded her faintly of someone she used to know...she just couldnt place it...as she could not place many things in the broken puzzle of her existance.  
  
"Its beautiful, isnt it?"   
  
"..?"  
  
"I mean the ocean..especially in the darkness"  
  
He nodded slowly. It was beautiful that night. Wonderfully still and clear.  
  
"Where do you live?"   
  
She sounded so innocent asking it that Vincent did not question her motives as he usually would have done, as he gave her the intersecting streets.  
  
"It's an apartment.."  
  
He lived by himself, getting work wherever he could. Lately he was thinking of hiring out as an assassin. Times had been hard.  
  
She took note of what he said casually, but took care to remember it. Why? She did not know, but somehow she felt as if she would need it.  
  
"Merlose.."  
  
~Lucrecia~  
  
She looked at him questioningly.  
  
He wanted to ask her many things. About her past. About the things she knew. The people. He settled on a question, and was about to ask her, when suddenly he was cut off.  
  
"Who was..Lucrecia? Do I look like her?"  
  
Vincent stopped mid-thought, and wondered what he should say to this. Another unexpected turn of conversation.  
  
"Yes, you do. She was a woman I worked with. I.."  
  
~I loved her~  
  
She saw his sadness immediately, though he covered it so well. She knew pain, sadness. She wondered if he had loved the woman in question.   
  
"Did you love her?"  
  
"...."   
  
Vincent chose not to answer, letting his silence assume the form of a 'yes'.  
  
"Then I am not her. No one......no one has ever loved me"  
  
With that she suddenly turned and walked away, leaving a light trail of footprints in the silver sand. The waves closed around them greedily, and soon the shore was smooth and unbroken again.  
  
................................................................................................  
Vincent sat by the window in his mundane apartment, in a bland square apartment complex. A book lie open on his lap, but he had given up reading it, after scanning pages upon pages and grasping nothing. His mind was too occupied with *her.* Answers hovered out of his grasp...intangible content. If she really was Lucrecia, why would she lie? It could only mean that she hated him and could not bring herself to renounce him openly. And if she was not? The pros almost outweighed this option, but then again, her voice was different. Within the echoes of her words, there trailed a sadness, a pain Lucrecia never quite carried.   
  
~What had she suffered?~  
  
But he could feel her presence, a pulling center in him, where there had been a void once. Its name was hope, and he embraced it.  
  
Melose (which is what we will call her) wanders aimlessly. She has a place, but not a home. She never had a home. Or, perhaps she just does not remember. There is much lost to her. Memories painted in watercolor on fine silk, then worn, and washed so that the color only remained an empty shell of its brilliance and vibrant expression. Grey strands of her past wound around her and tripped her recovery. Recovery from..even now she could not really remember. Where was she going?   
  
~It doesnt matter. Nothing matters. Why do I stay with my pain?~  
  
She sat down on a curb dejectedly, and stared at the pavement. It was grey, undifinitive. Is that what she wanted? A life away from pain, away from descisions, and lies, and...No.   
  
~No! Thats not what I want~   
  
Pain...she wanted to feel. She wanted love, but if all she could have was hurt, so be it. She took out a small pocketknife. The rest came easy. The way her body tingled, and she grew dizzy.   
  
~Red.~  
  
He was wearing red. A bandanna, a red bandanna. She smiled. She could see blood on his face in her mind. She didnt know why she did, but something about her reminded her of blood. She closed the knife, and slipped it back into a small velvet purse she carried, then pulled down the sleeves of her long sling dress to hide the cuts, and the scars. She couldn't think straight. She couldnt remember where she lived. For some reason that man, Vincent, occupied her mind. For an instant, she thought of going to his house, and asking for directions..but then she knew how ludicrious that would sound, and stumbled on. Dawn was impatient.  
  
.......................................................................................................................................  
  
  
  
  
Vincent, contrary to common belief, did not live alone. Another occupied his small, inornate apartment along with him. Her name was Carroll...or was it really? Perhaps everything in her life was just illusion..  
  
~Its just an illusion~  
  
The door opened, and thudded hollowly against the wall, before following efficient footsteps to a muffled slam. It was on past the smaller hours of morning, and through the gloomy, flickering light of a bared lightbulb, there was a promise of dawn. The apartment was modest, with two rooms a kitchen area, and a small cluttered space which could have been called a living room in better days which sported two dejected couches, sprawled at odd angles.   
  
Upon one of the former, a girl with short, messy black hair and startling green eyes lounged carelessly. She was staring vacantly at the celing, a forgotten cigarette nearly in ash, being held by a pale, languid hand. She was startled mildly from her reverie when as door closed. Carroll tilted her head back over the arm of the couch, and scrutinized Vincent, upside-down.  
  
"You're out later than usual, Vince"   
  
Through her words was a kind of hazy lack of thought. Vincent noticed, and brushed of the comment. He could not confide in Carroll about the girl, who ever she was. She would make too much of it, as she alwys did. It amazed him how much she seemed to care...  
  
She sighed. It was futile trying to pry answers out of him, if he was determined to leave them unsaid. Besides, she was accustomed to silence from him. It was his natural reaction to so much it seemed..  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Just the beach." Vincent paused, then walked to the door that marked his territory from the rest of the house. He swung it open and dissapeared inside, closing it softly behind him.   
  
His room was nothing special. A plain wood chair with red cushions stationed by a small pictureglass window overlooking unnattractive streets, occasional glimpses of blue sky through the grey, and sometimes even light. Beside the window was a neat black desk, lined with folders and stacks of paper. A black coffin with red satin lining lay slightly ajar in a corner. The walls were a greyish black, painted that way by Vincent in a bout of depression. He walked over to the window, and slouched into the chair, convinced there was too much on his mind for sleep..  
  
In the living room, Carroll was faced with the same problem, yet a different cause. Her mind was deviod of clear thoughts, plauged with sleeplessness. She wished she could grasp them - they lingered so tauntingly just beyond her blurred vision; focusing and unfocusing on a fault in the smooth, white ceiling.   
  
She knew that hours ago she was trying everything just to forget. And she had. Her mind was scrambled, she just drifted aimlessly over faces and faint traces of events. She remembered the drugs..the loud, hot clubs and bars that reappeared throughout the broken chain of memories. SShe hated her life. If it were not for Vincent, she might have ended it a long time ago. As it was, he gave her a reason to go one living. With her mind on the raven-haired man in the next room, she finally drifted to sleep.  
  
.......................................................  
  
  
A week dragged by. Vincent fell back into his routine with no traces of the beautiful, mysterious Merlose. He started to question her existance..such visions had posessed him before. But it had seemed so real...  
  
Vincent picked up the set of keys to the apartment and walked out. Carroll was out already, so he needed to deliver no explaination. The evening was chilly, but Vincent has never minded the cold. He wandered aimlessly down dark streets, finding his way and avoiding the worse streets without glancing up. Eventually he was forced to stop, and look up. In front of him were the tall, wrought iron gates of the cemetery. A small shiver stole its way through his body. This place always reminded him of hat he had left behind...  
  
Tonight, though, something compelled him to step inside the gates. He had always avoided the inside of the graveyards - silent white headstones and solemn marble masolems. Strangely, walking through the slight mist that was forming, he felt at home here. It lost it's sence of foreboding as the scent of wilted flowers and age tinted the cold air.  
  
Perched atop a smooth oblong grave marker, a stone angel behind her and lending her wings, was Merlose. She wore a long, plain black dress, with lace covering her arms, and black ribbons cascading from soft curls in her light brown hair. Her face was peaceful, and relaxed, yet tears glimmered on her cheeks, seemingly out of place.  
  
Vincent caught his breath as he noticed her - a black angel shrouded in light mist. She turned and looked at him, vaugely confused at his presence.   
  
"Vincent?"  
  
He did not look away when she caught his eyes, and walked over to her. She smiled a little, and brushed away her tears quickly. The tall, dark stranger had been on her mind. She rested the peice of charcoal she was holding on the grave marker and picked up her sketchbook. It was bound in leather, and filled with sketches, rubbings and dried flower petals form this place. There was a plain cross stamped on the front. Merlose spent more timehere then she did anywhere else, and she was both dismayed and glad that Vincent had found it - her haven.  
  
He glances down at her sketchbook. On the page it was opened to was a black rose, its thorny vines twisting around the shape of a heart, blood pooling beneath it. She snapped it closed and latched it.   
  
"I've never seen you here before. Why did you come?"  
  
Vincent did not know if it was suspicion or something else in her voice. It was casual, but there were darker undertones, a glimpse of untold secrets.   
  
"...I'm not sure." Merlose just looked at him, as if waiting for him to elaborate, because the answer did not suit her. Vincent, never having been a good conversationalist, offered another comment.  
  
"I usually stay away from cemetaries..tonight I felt like a change. Why are you here?"  
  
Merlose smiled. "I love it here, There is so much atmosphere.." She ran her charcoal tinted fingers across the name carved into the gravestone. "Besides, someone needs to remember these people. The graves are all so lonely."  
  
Vincent nodded. Merlose slid to her feet, picking up the charcoal. He noticed black smudges on the marble where her fingers had touched. It was like she had left pieces of the darkness of her soul on the grave.   
  
~What happened to you, Lucrecia?~  
  
"Would you walk me home?"  
  
The request, admittedly, took him a bit by surprise, but he consented, and they left the cemetery together. Merlose lived in a beautiful section of the sector. The street lamps were all functional, and there were trees, and neatly kept hedges. Houses, and and gardens lined themselves up behind sidewalks and fences. There was nothing dark or threatening on these streets.   
  
They talked occasionally, in soft voices, as not to disturb the still night. Through the words were unanswered questions which neither asked for one reason or another. They eventually reached her house. It was older then the ones around it - classic, and a bit out of place. Wrought iron ringed the yard, in which there were one or two rosebushes, struggling to bloom though winter was looming ominously ahead. It was painted a light grey with white doors and shutters cvontrasting with black doorframes and highlights. It was one and a half stories, with an attic space.   
  
She opened the gate, and walked up to her door. Vincent stopped a few yards from it. "Good night."  
  
Merlose looked back at him, as if puzzled. She unlocked the door and opened it a little, then walked back to where he was standing.   
  
"Leaving? I thought.."  
  
Vincent had guessed her intentions. But that wasn't the type of person he was. He cut her off. "Yes, I think that would be best." He tried not to have the statement come across as cold, but it did, and he saw the hurt in Merlose's eyes before she turned away.  
  
She did not understand why Vincent had turned her down. Red. That blood red color he wore..It was familiar. It complimented the cold feeling that had brushed against her heart. She jumped slightly, at a hand on her arm. A black fingerless glove.  
  
"Wait, I didn't mean to upset you..."  
  
Merlose covered his hand with her own, and turned to face him slowly. His midnight black hair fell over his shoulders and framed his pale skin. She moved his hand off her arm gently, looking up at him with soft brown eyes.  
  
Vincent's heart was pounding. He had found her again - his second chance. It had to be her, every detail was painfully intact in his memory.   
  
~You do not know him~  
  
Merlose silenced the voice in her head as his lips touched hers. The cold feeling melted in that kiss - it was soft, and somewhat unsure. Exposure to emotion after having the feeling locked away for so long.   
  
The moment had passed, and there was something new in the look that passed between them. Suddenly, something deep inside of Merlose snapped - an ancient injury that did not have the chance to heal.   
  
~No! You cannot fall in love again~  
  
She released his hand quickly and stumbled a few steps back.  
  
"No. Stay away from me.."  
  
She turned and ran up the front steps, into her house. The door slammed, and Vincent was left staring at the closed door with mixed emotions. Confusion, pain, anger. Love...  
  
He decided to respect her wish for solitude and started back home.   
  
.............................................  
  
Three hours later, Carroll stumbled in the front door. Vincent awoke from a light sleep at the noise. He glanced at the clock skeptically, then got up, grabbing his cape off the back of a chair and draping it over his shoulders, leaving the buckles undone. Carroll even coming home at all this late meant she was in trouble.   
  
Usually when she got really trashed at parties she would stay until morning, when she would slink in and pass out on the couch, or on her bedroom floor. She knew that Vincent did not approve of her behavior, but she was an adult, and he had no say in it.   
  
He walked out to meet her in the living room. When she saw him she flinched, as if expecting a reprimand, then stumbled back into a wall, pressing against it for support. It was bad. There were dark bruises on her face and arms and her eyes were red, from crying, and god only knows what else.   
  
She started to cry, softly at first. Vincent walked over, silent, and with empathy in his crimson eyes. Carroll let go of the wall and collapsed in his arms, hugging him tightly, desperately, and crying harder.  
  
"I'm sorry Vince."  
  
The world was blurry, dark, violent. She remembered the neon lights of the club, the bodies, the smoke in the air. The back room, with whispered promises and small, bright pills. She was flirting with a man with shoulder length blonde hair. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, though unfocused, and his body was muscled. She hadn't meant for it to go as far as it did. Not tonight.  
  
"What happened, Carroll?"  
  
She struggled to hold back sobs, sounding weak and helpless against his calm voice and steady arms.  
  
"Things got messy.."   
  
Vincent traced a bruise on her arm gently, and narrowed his eyes. He knew what happened, and it wasn't the first time. If she would only listen to him..Women were too complex.  
  
~Blackness, sleep~  
  
Carroll was getting limp, losing feeling in her legs. Vincent picked her up easily and carried her into her room. She passed out soon after, and he put her on her bed, sitting beside her in the faint smoke-veiled moonlight, and stroking her hair out of her tear stained face.  
  
~The angel Merlose~  
  
He shook his head, but could not get the image of her out of it. He sighed and looked out the window in Carroll's room. Another sleepless night... 


	2. 2

The sun tinted the grey sky and the numbers on Carroll's bedside table read 6:21. Her eyes cracked open a little, then closed again at the sharp headache that had pounded itself into her head. She was late for a meeting with someone, but she didn't care.  
  
"Too fucking early..." She mumbled , then turned over on the soft pillows.  
  
Light was pouring into the room when Carroll awoke again. 12:43. She sighed and dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom, leaving the light off and absorbing the dim windowless atmosphere. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed the dull pain she felt all over her body. Dark bruises blossomed all over, a silent ominous reminder. She took off her clothes, still smelling of smoke and sweat and left them on the bathroom floor, stepping into the shower.  
  
The porcelain tile was cool and startling before hot water cascaded down to touch her pale skin and remove the dark smudges of makeup from her eyes, lips and cheeks. She ran her fingers through her short tangled hair, muting the effect of the hair spray she piled in it, face upturned to the eggshell white ceiling. She stayed there, numbed by the heat and letting her mind clear for a long time, then turned off the water, walking out to the hall dripping for a towel.  
  
She returned to her room, clean and still with that stabbing headache. A piece of paper was stashed neatly under her alarm clock, with Vincent's neat script on it.  
  
Carroll,  
Take the day off. I'll be at work, you know where to find me if something comes up.  
There are leftovers in the refrigerator.  
-Vincent  
  
She smiled, and pulled the note out from under the clock, sticking it in a drawer. She dressed carelessly, and headed to the kitchen for food. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning at least, and she was ravenous. She pulled open the refrigerator door and pulled out a square plastic tupperware box and opened it. Casserole. Vincent really was more help to Carroll then she was to him. She couldn't cook for crap, and when he wasn't around she usually ended up with some horrible cheap takeout. She stuck the box in the microwave and slouched in a chair at the little table in the kitchen, watching the green numbers count down.   
  
After she had eaten, Carroll got up and washed the dishes. She usually didn't, and it drove Vincent crazy, but she was on good behavior after last night. She lit a cigarette, and walked over to the couch. Before she could sit down, a knock echoed on the door.  
  
~A stranger~  
  
Carroll's head snapped up towards the door, the instinct bringing a wince from her still-active headache. She wondered who it could be. Vincent said he would be at work, and none of her friends dared to come by except after nightfall. She walked up to the door and slid the chain lock into its metal groove. Then she undid the bolt locks and opened the door a few inches. "What do you want?"  
  
The woman behind the door had long wavy brown hair, sunglasses, and a long black dress. "I'm here to see Vincent." Whereas Carroll's voice held malice, Merlose's voice had a tone that suggested she always got what she asked for, and for a reason. Carroll recognized this. It was a sure sign of money, power, or both. "Who are you?" She paused, and they both took the silence as an opportunity to look distastefully at each other's appearance.  
  
"My name is Merlose, I'm a friend" Carroll scoffed. "That's probably bullshit. Vincent's not here anyways." She slammed the door and took a drag on her cigarette. The woman was giving her bad vibes.   
  
She was starting to head back to the couch when there was another knock. "What the hell! I told you he wasn't here." She said loudly in the direction of the door. Merlose just knocked again, as if she were too good to raise her voice in reply. Carroll glared and opened the door again. "This better be good." Merlose looked at her levelly, but with a touch of desperation. "Who is Lucrecia?" Carroll stopped glaring, and just looked at the woman for a few moments. Then she unlocked the door. "Come on in."  
  
Merlose looked like a white dove among pigeons in the turmoil of the little apartment. Most of the filth, of course, was compliments to Carroll, but the apartment was still run down, cracks in the walls, and dismal lighting. Carroll sprawled out comfortably on the battered couch, and looked at Merlose.   
  
"What do you want to know about her?"   
  
Merlose sat on the arm of the couch, her hands in her lap, her feet resting parallel on the floor. "I don't really know.. I think Vincent is convinced I'm her. But I couldn't be.." Carroll sighed. "Poor child. Vincent's a bit obsessive over this chick. She died, a long time ago, and its still 'Lucrecia this, Lucrecia that.'" Merlose listened, seeming to be in deep thought. "Do I look like her?" Carroll paused, squinting, then shrugged. "No, not really. Your hair maybe, or the figure, but you're not a lookalike or anything. Hey.." She seemed to remember something "I'll be right back." Carroll dragged herself up from her spot on the couch and disappeared into Vincent's room.   
  
She opened his coffin and ran her fingers along the satin lining for a moment or two. Then she found what she was looking for, the little cut in the fabric, and beneath it the glossy surface of a photograph. She carried it back and presented it to Merlose.   
  
Merlose looked at it for a while. Lucrecia was sitting on the floor amidst open books and strewn papers, sunlight pouring in a window and backlighting her hair and glasses. She was laughing at something, blushing slightly, her hand raised as if to stop the photographer from taking the picture. "You're right. She doesn't look like me." Carroll shrugged again.   
"Maybe..maybe you shouldn't mention this to him." Carroll gave her a look. "Since when was I taking suggestions on what to tell Vincent from you? Don't think that because I'm doing this I like you. I'm just looking out for Vincent's feelings."   
  
"So am I!" Merlose snapped back at her. Carroll glared, and Merlose got up. "I'm leaving." She walked to the door opened it and walked out, closing it behind her. Carroll had expected a slam.   
  
Carroll sat down again and closed her eyes. The pieces were coming together. The late nights Vincent had been staying out, less of the usual brooding from him. She opened her eyes again. She was going to confront him about it tonight. She lit another cigarette, the last one had been put out shortly after Merlose's arrival, and sighed.   
  
~Evening, a secret is waiting for you~  
  
Hours later, Vincent was returning home from his job. He stopped in front of his mailbox and casusally checked it as he did every day. There were usually just bills and junk mail. There was a red enevelope inside. He lifted it out and looked at it, turned it over. Nothing. He put it in a poket, closed the mailbox and took out his keys to the apartment, unlocking the three sets of locks on the door and walking in. Carroll looked up from the jigsaw puzzle she had spread out on the floor space that constituted as a living room. "Hey there."  
  
"Hello Carroll. Feeling better?" He closed the door and walked over, tossing his keys on an end table. Carroll nodded slightly. "Yeah." Vincent noted the brusies that had started to go purple at the edges, signs of healing. "Good." He started towards his room, and Carroll watched him go, anxiety rising through attempts to calm herslf down.   
  
Vincent sat down on the lid of his coffin, and took off his metal plated boots and cape, unbuttoning his shirt partially. He sighed, leaning his arms on his knees and hanging his head, causing his silky black hair to fall forward over his face. It had been a long day. He looked up at the sound of light footsteps pausing at his doorway. The lights of his room were off, and Carroll stood self consciously silhouetted against the light of the living room.   
  
"Vincent..." She hardly ever took the time to use his full name. He listened.   
  
"Someone came by asking for you today." Vincent frowned. "Who?" "Merlose." She watched his expression turn from confusion to slight fustration to anger, and then nothing. "...Oh." Carroll walked in, uninvited, to sit by him. "Hey, Vince, we need to talk." He looked at her, crimson eyes betraying nothing. "About..? I don't see how she conserns you." Caroll looked a little hurt at the defensive coldness. Even living with him for over a year she wasn't used to it. "Vincent, I don't want to see you hurt over her. You know she isn't..."   
  
"Isn't what?" He dared her to say it. "Isn't Lucrecia, Vince. She's dead, you have to accept it." Vincent turned away from her, his hands slowly clenching into fists. "No." It was almost a whisper, yet clear and stated. Carroll held back tears of fustrated empathy. "Listen! Merlose doesn't even look like her! You're putting faith in an illusion. It's just your mind..."  
  
Vincent was suddenly pushed over the edge, and he stood up abruptly. "Do you think I can't take care of my own relationships? I don't need your protection from the world, Carroll." His voice was only slightly raised, but even that was enough to make Carroll cringe. He could be very threatening when he was upset or angry, even though Carroll knew he would never touch her. Carroll met his eyes. "Sometimes you're so naieve. So what, you've been eternally scarred by her. She was some kind of angel. But Merlose won't be as perfect as your memories of her were. She's human, and if you love Merlose because of who she is, then by all means, be with her. But don't love her because you think she's Lucrecia." Carroll handed him back the photograph of her. Vincent took it, but didn't look at it. He reamined standing, worldessly, but expecting her to leave.   
  
"Vincent, please..." Slience.  
  
She resigned, and left him in his room to his thoughts. He closed and locked the door behind her. He turned over the photograph so that the blank side was facing up, still not having looked at it, and picked up a lighter from his dresser. He caught the corner of it in the small flame and let it slowly burn, smoke twirling, until it reached his fingers and burnt out. He dropped the remaining piece in the trash, and sat down at the chair uunder his small window.   
  
~Red~  
  
He remembered th mysterious enelope and reached into his pocket, drawing it out. It was a woman's handwriting.   
  
Vincent,  
Tomorrow night, meet me at my house. 9:30. I'm expecting you.  
  
It was unsigned, but there was really only one person it could have been from. She was inviting him to her house. It must have meant she changed her mind about him. He smiled to himself, and put the envelope into the book that was lying on the windowsill. He looked out at the setting sun, tinting the sky red and orange.  
  
.................................................................................................. 


	3. 3

AN: Hello everyone. ^_^ The author finally speaks, eh? I hope you all like the story, and thank you so much to all the nice and wonderful people who give me such nice reviews! It really does inspire me to update sooner. So don't be afraid to review, minna! There's some fan service in this chapter ^.~  
  
The following night Carroll had not returned home. Vincent was feeling worse about yelling at her last night. She really was only trying to help, and now she was probably drinking it off somewhere. He would have stayed home and waited for her, but he could not simply ignore the message in the red envelope. He stepped out into the cool evening air, locking the door behind him and prayed Carroll would be all right.   
  
The night had always been a mother to Vincent. Darkness creeping through the veins of the world, bleeding into pools of shadow. This time belonged to him, and that is where his thoughts were turned as he walked soundlessly down the immaculately paved sidewalks of Merlose's sector.   
  
Eventually he reached her house, and ascended the few steps to her porch. He knocked, even though the door was slightly open, the metal of the lock resting on the frame, and letting through a sliver of flickering orange light. He waited, but there was no answer.   
  
~You are expected. Walk away.~  
  
He stood torn between the urge to just walk in, through the white ajar door, and the voice that whispered that he was getting himself into something he could not turn back from. Carroll's words echoed in his head, and he closed his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts, and just let fate decide his action. He reached for the door and pulled it open.  
  
~Naive~   
  
The inside of the house was as correct and trim as the outside. But the tasteful interior decorating was thrown into shadow by the light of white candles, burning low and balanced atop almost every flat surface. Merlose was no where to be seen, so Vincent waited by the doorway.   
  
She walked into the living room, a vision in burning red satin and lace. It contrasted with her normal black attire, though the black lace calmed down the color slightly. The dress was low cut and her hair was pinned up loosely. Vincent saw her as she crossed the room, and whatever he had planned to say escaped his grasp.   
  
"You are perfectly on time, Vincent." She smiled, and glanced at a clock, which read precisely 9:30. "..Yes, I usually am." She had broken the spell, and he found to his surprise that he could speak again, though she remained just as lovely. He noticed for the first time the peculiar way that Merlose wore clothing. She seemed to make the most formal evening gown appear casual, like something comfortable, just chosen at random.   
  
She smiled. "I think you have some dark secret, Vincent." Vincent just looked at her, frowning slightly. Was she mocking him? She could be hinting at something..or perhaps it was just his mind, a casual comment made by a spectator that was taken as more then it was. "Don't we all." He gave her a dark look, and the smirk she had slowly died.   
  
"Yes, I suppose you're right." She paused for a moment. "Are you going to stand by the door all night? Come in, make yourself comfortable." When he hesitated, she took his hand and pulled him over to a light lavender loveseat, sitting down and letting go of his hand. He took a seat next to her, but not too close. She looked at him. Vincent didn't return the glance, he wanted to keep his thoughts clear, and looking at her wasn't going to help that.   
  
"You're different from all the other men I've known. Quiet, but that's not all. I suppose it's because you're old fashioned." Vincent glanced up at her when she spoke. "Am I?" She smiled gently and nodded. The smile cut him, illuminated with candlelight, a wound reopened in a place long forgotten. It had to be her..  
  
He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was pale and beautiful, and just this slight brush of contact was making his heart speed up in a way that nothing else seemed able to do. He was always so cool and collected..except when it came to this. She leaned forward, into his touch, and he kissed her softly.  
  
~Into darkness, once again~  
  
The candles surrendered to darkness, as if timed, the flame dying in pools of wax. Merlose wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him more deeply. Vincent put his hands on her waist, and lifted her onto his lap, holding her gently, as if she were fragile.   
  
She finally broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, something in their light brown depths spoke of hurt, but also of passion. She placed a hand on Vincent's heart, and felt it pounding. She let a smile touch her lips, and then kissed him again, running her fingers through his long black hair. Then she let her hands trail down and unbuckle the three clasps that held Vincent's red cape on. The crimson fabric rustled as it slid off his shoulders. Then came the silver buttons on the black shirt beneath.   
  
She ran her hands over his smooth pale skin, and he broke the kiss to touch his lips to her neck, causing her shiver slightly. He kissed her shoulder, brushing the strap of her dress off of it. The way she touched him was like poetry, and he could feel the coldness start melt away from inside. It was finally a second chance. He could be happy...  
  
~Only an illusion. It always is.~  
  
An hour later, the two were lying on Merlose's queen sized canopy bed, moonlight pouring from a window and lighting everything in silver. She was looking at him, smiling, her hair loose and splayed out over the light sheets, and herself wrapped up in another sheet. Vincent had an arm around her securely, and his clawed hand resting close to him, just looking deeply into her eyes.   
  
Merlose reached over and placed her hand atop the cool metal. It caused a small automatic reaction from Vincent, and he looked down, something like shame passing over his features. "What happened?" She asked the question gently, sensing it was something painful for him. "It happened a long time ago. I was shot, and it had to be amputated." This was not the whole truth, but Vincent did not want to tell Merlose the truth about himself.  
  
  
"Who?" Vincent looked at her. "A scientist named Hojo." There was no flicker of memory in her eyes at the words. Vincent sighed, and sat up. "I can't stay here for the night." Merlose turned over onto her back and looked up at him. "No? Well all right." He stood, and walked over to where he had left his clothes, picking them up and disappearing into a bathroom attached to Merlose's bedroom.  
  
She waited for him, running the events of the night over in her head. She trusted him...He wasn't like the one before. The one who had made her hate the color red.   
  
A few minutes passed, and Vincent walked out of the bathroom, fully clothed and his bandanna retied. Merlose sat up, holding the sheet to her. Vincent leaned over the bed and kissed her lips, a farewell. Then he walked out, leaving her and her thoughts alone with the moonlight and the coming dawn.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	4. 4

Morning. It was early. Carroll sat and watched the sun's first rays diffuse the blackness of the late hours of night. The stars fell to the ocean, and the wind bit into her, through her black overcoat.   
  
~Resentment, old photographs. He'll never love you, Carroll.~  
  
She cursed lightly, just to hear her own voice through the deafening silence. A white bird flew by, a seagull, and she watched it with envy. She was trapped down here on earth, a lost dark little junkie, with dreams that would never come true. Damn all this emotional shit.   
  
She was completely clean. And it was proof that she was suffering. She did not want the escape. she did not want to forget. Yes, she did. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, to turn her footsteps towards the teeming, sweaty, neon club. To the needles and pills and powders that led to the dreams... Instead she found herself here. In the biting morning air, watching the sun rise darkly into the smog that surrounds this god forsaken place. She thought that for once she would like to see clear skies. She would like to get away, somewhere   
  
The white seagull was gone, and the sky was filling with light. She was hungry, and tired. She had been out wandering around since her confrontation with Vincent. Carroll never took very good care of herself. She pulled out a cigarette, the first drug she had touched in over 24 hours, and lit it. Then she stood and wove through dark streets until she reached her apartment.  
  
It was Saturday. Vincent was at home, allowing himself some rare leisure. He was sitting on the couch and eating strawberries, looking distant. His mind was on other things, candles and a certain woman's smile..  
  
The sound of a key twisting in the lock of the apartment sent him crashing back to reality. Carroll. He had almost forgotten about her, through everything else that had happened. He braced himself for something bad. Signs of abuse, a hangover, a buzz, she could be in all sorts of trouble. He sighed and put the strawberry he had just picked up back into the little plastic box.  
  
Carroll walked in. Her eyes were shadowed, but clear, and the only marks she had on her were the still-healing bruises from the other night. She looked at him, tired, slightly accusing, and repentant. He looked back, surprised, yet relieved.  
  
"What were you expecting, Vince?"  
  
The way she said his name cut him, it was heavy, and bitter.  
  
"..."  
  
Silence. He didn't know what to say to her. It was true that he had expected her to come home trashed after what happened.  
  
"Bastard."  
  
She turned, walking to her room and slamming the door. She had meant to say more to him, the curse was quiet, but well placed. She sat on her bed and tried to stare a hole into the wall. A little later there was a light knock on her door. She ignored it.  
  
"Carroll..."  
  
Her name on his lips. He was so perfect. And the way he said it, so hurt, demanded her forgiveness. As she forgave him, her heart cracked a little more. She couldn't be angry with him. The only thing left to do was accept defeat. A tear slid down her cheek, hastily wiped away. She stayed where she was.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Still nothing from behind her door. He leaned his head against it, sighing.   
  
"Open the door, I want to talk to you."  
  
He sighed again. She was being difficult. Nothing that he himself was innocent of, but still, he wished Carroll would understand. The strained afternoon sunlight caught Carroll's tears through the opened window. She finally stood, an walked to the door, unlocking it, then sitting on her bed again, her back to the door.  
  
Vincent opened it slowly, and walked in. He sat beside her on her bed, though she was still facing away from him. He pushed his raven colored hair out of his eyes and paused for a while, thinking of something good enough to say to her.  
  
"I'm glad you're back unharmed. I should not have yelled at you the other night."  
  
Carroll still could not find the strength to answer him. The both of them sat in silence for a while. It was not uncomfortable, but rather painful, and drawn out. Finally Carroll broke the silence.  
  
"But you did."  
  
A pause.  
  
"I forgive you."  
  
She turned towards him, her tears dry, but having left salty dark streaks down her cheeks. Vincent had the impulse to hold her, she looked so fragile and helplessly forgotten and alone. But he did not, he could not after holding Merlose in the same arms just last night. He looked down. Besides, he knew a relationship with Carroll just wouldn't work, and he did not want her to think he meant something that he did not.  
  
Carroll also wanted to hug him. She wanted to do more then that. She wanted to tell him that he was more important to her then her lifestyle..that she loved him. That she would give up the drugs and the nightlife and get a real job, or whatever he wanted her to do. But she could not speak this either, she just looked down. He wouldn't believe her, and even if he did, he was in love with another woman.  
  
Silence between them, again. Uncomfortable, this time, neither very sure of themselves, both hurt.   
  
"Hey Vince..."  
  
He looked at her.  
  
"If being with her is making you happier, I don't want to get in the way of your relationship. I'm sorry for all that shit I said before."  
  
Vincent just nodded quietly. Then he stood, the tension in the room had quieted down, and he thought that Carroll might need some time alone. He left the room, with a kind glance to Carroll and then closed the door behind him. 


	5. 5

Life had moved on. Vincent had started meeting with Merlose more regularly, but always at night. Carroll just watched. She watched both of them from the bright shadows of her life, wondering why things work the way they do.   
  
She was alone in the apartment, standing in front of a slightly cracked, smudged mirror, (Vincent had gotten tired of trying to keep it clean) applying dark lipstick. She was dressed to go out, in a short black leather skirt, and a purple tank top, with high boots and fishnet. On top of everything was a heavy black coat, with a fur lined collar, which she wore open. She ran her fingers through her hair, which was bristling with hairspray that kept it spiked up, and messy. She sighed, and then smiled hollowly, turning to walk out the door.   
  
Her hand was on the first set of locks when there was a knock. She stopped.  
  
Whoever it was knocked again, and the knock seemed familiar, polite.  
  
Damn, it better not be Merlose..  
  
"Who the hell is it?"  
  
Silence. She thought that it had to be Merlose, but slid the chain over and unlocked the rest of the locks, looking out. It was Merlose, and she was dressed up, very formally. Psh, some people had too much money. Carroll was irratated. She was already a little late to meet with some people, and they were the kind of people you don't want to keep waiting too long.   
  
"What do you want?"  
  
She put her hands on her hips.  
  
Merlose just looked at her over her sunglasses, as if to imply that Carroll should know already.  
  
"I'm looking for Vincent, he said I should meet him here at 9:45."  
  
Carroll scoffed.  
  
"Well you're early, it's 9:30. If Vince said 9:45 he probably won't show up before then. But you should probably know that."  
  
It ws true, both women knew about Vincent's uuncanny habit of always being right on time to things. The door being open was causing the cold air to seep in.  
  
"Can I wait inside?"  
  
"Hell no. Firstly, I don't like you, or trust you for that matter. And secondly, I'm leaving."  
  
"Leaving?"  
  
Carroll glared, wondering if she was always this nosy.  
  
"Don't even."  
  
She closed the door, slid the chain off, picked up her keys, and walked out into the cold night. She might not have been dresed sensibly, but neither was Merlose, who tended to act like the weather had no effect on her choice of clothing. She was dressed in light silk, and for just a moment, Carroll felt sorry for her, like she wished she would have let her un. But it passed.  
  
"Beautiful night, isn't it?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Carroll, why all this hostility? I never did anything to you, really.."  
  
"You're doing something right now. Lying through your teeth. You have nothing but contempt for me, and at least I don't try to hide what I have for you."  
  
"Hm, I bet it's jealousy."  
  
Merlose smiled. She was too beautiful, and that smile hurt Carroll in a different way then it hurt Vincent. Yes, it was a little jealousy. It was pain over the unfairness of things, that Vincent would love her just because she was beautiful, and because she happened to look like another angel...  
  
"It's not! Your presence is just annoying me."  
  
"It is..I bet you're in love with Vincent. He talks about you, you know."  
  
Carroll was angry, but Merlose had thrown her off with the second statement, so that she was torn between yelling at her and asking her what he said about her. Merlose had done this on purpose, and had achieved the effect she wanted. Carroll just glared at her, noticing the trick.  
  
"You bitch. Why can't you stay out of my life? I'd like you to stay out of both of our lives, but apparently that's too much to ask for."  
  
Merlose smirked, and Carroll looked even more serious.  
  
"Do *you* love him?"  
  
Merlose brushed off the question, as if it were nothing.  
  
"Still 'looking out for Vincent's feelings', Carroll?"  
  
Her tone was mocking, and there was nothing Carroll could do about it. She couldn't do anything to Merlose, it would come back to Vincent, and she would pay for it...If not by his anger, then by silence. And that was something she needed less of from Vincent.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
It was quiet, an admission. No matter what Vincent said to her, she still believed that he couldn't look after himself when it came to women, or love. He was still a child in that, she knew him well enough at this point.  
  
Merlose gave her a slight look of disgust, mingled with superiority. She was still smirking a little.  
  
"You can see for him, but you can't open his eyes. Maybe I am using him. You'd like to believe that, hm? To be able to save Vincent from the impostor who stole his heart and live happily ever after. It would be sweet. But he won't let go of his belief, and it works for me, too. Maybe I should let him call me Lucrecia, eh?"  
  
Carroll balled her hands into fists.  
  
"Gods, I hate you! If I'm not good enough for him, neither are you, you self-serving bitch. I'm leaving. Have fun manipulating his emotions."   
  
"Mm, I will. Oh, and he told me that you were a burden to him..."  
  
This was met with shocked silence by Carroll. She stood there for a moment, then walked quickly to the stairs, and ran down them, her boots echoing off the cement. She stopped at the bottom, and leaned against the wall, her hands clenched and tears rising and threatening to show.   
  
She had always been afraid of that. That she was nothing to him but trouble, and she had asked him that more then once, in occasional meaningful conversations. He had always told her that he didn't mind her bad habits, that it was overruled by the bond he had with her. She believed him then. But now she was thinking how Vincent tended to say things she wanted to hear, just to smooth things over, especially when emotional issues were involved.  
  
She walked down the street and turned down an alley, her steps carrying her to where she wsa supposed to meet some person...a connection, most likely some dealer. She couldn't let her weakness show, so she hid the sadness, and let something more familiar rise to the surface.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She checked her watch as she arrived at the club. 20 minutes late. Shit. She pushed her way through people just standing around and socializing, gtting some dirty looks but really not caring. She looked around, and then saw him. He was sitting at the bar with a few empty shot glasses in front of him. He looked at her as she approached him. He was handsome, but not very clean cut, he had a few day's shadow of a beard from not shaving, and his clothess under the leather jacket were kind of wrinkled.   
  
But then, Carroll was used to dealing with people like him, or worse. She sat down on a bar stool next to him, and leaned an elbow on the counter.   
  
"Hey, sorry I'm late."  
  
The apology was careless, perhaps too much so, because it looked like he wasn't satisfied with that.  
  
"Where the hell were you? You don't even live too far from here. You're 30 minutes late, you better have an excuse"  
  
She ran through a list of them in her head before she decided the truth might be good.  
  
"Some bitch showed up at my apartment looking for my room mate, I had to get rid of her."  
  
The guy laughed, he was a little drunk, and going on very drunk, and probably a while mess of other things too. All druggies are the same, Carroll thought. But then, who was she to talk, she knew how it was.  
  
"Some bitch, eh? Someone trying to steal your man, Carroll?"  
  
Carroll tried to just brush it off.   
  
"Naw, we don't have anything going on. We just live together, you know."  
  
"Yeah, well if it was me, I'd give her a taste of something she wouldn't like."  
  
Carroll was quiet. She was thinking about it, but she knew she didn't have the strength to actually do anything to Merlose.  
  
"Let's go somewhere quiet and talk."  
  
This was a code she understood a little too well, and she wasn't quite up to it tonight. However, she didn't have a choice, she had gotten paid off by an associate to find out what she could about this guy, and see if he would do buisness with them.  
  
"Yeah, all right."  
  
~~  
  
They were in his car, it was a convertable. The cold air was getting to Carroll and she shivered a little. Then she noticed they weren't heading to another club, or even to his house, where most likely he would have other friends waiting, to talk and shoot up random stuff. He pulled the car to a stop in one of those dead end streets. It was too quiet, she was getting a little nervous. True, she did usually carry around knives, or a little handgun for protection for dangerous people, but she had been told he was a pretty straight character. She was starting to regret it.  
  
"So, let's talk buisness first."  
  
First. The word gave her a little shiver, her instincts were screaming to her to get out of the car and just run. But she wasn't very easily shaken, so she started to talk things over with him, money and drugs, information and meeting places. Then he broke out the drugs, and her body forced her mind into submission, as it always did with her addictions. Then he touched her. She froze in place.   
  
His fingers were cold, he was wearing fingerless grey wool gloves.   
  
"Are these dragons?"  
  
He was tracing a line down the tails of the twin dragons she had tattooed on her chest, they interwined starting from just below her collarbone, where their tails lay, to about the bottom of her rib cage, where they interlocked in a deadly embrace, the red dragon (which had RAGE written beside it) biting the icy blue one, which said PEACE.  
  
"Yeah.."  
  
She lifted her shirt a little to show him the rest of it, and he caught her wrists, pinning her back against the car door, his breath smelling vaugely of alcohol. She ran through her options. Either let him do whatever he wanted, and come out alright, just a little violated (which wasn't so unusual) , or refuse him and make a break for it, which could end her up with a few bulletholes in unpleasant places. She regretted not bringing a weapon, and decided that she didn't feel like dying tonight.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She was even colder then she was before. But now the cold was on the inside as well. Stumbling through the streets, trying to keep her mind off of what just happened. However, that left only one place for her mind to go. Merlose and Vincent. She found herself drawn to her sector. The beautiful houses, the manicured, decorated lawns with little flower gardens...  
  
Carroll had found one of Merlose's letters once, and memorized her address, it was written on the back of the message, which was rather shor and impersonal. Merlose. Merlose. Her sadness was blinded by pure hatred, and her thoughts were also pretty obscured by the drugs. The darkness consumed her, and then she was standing in front of her house. 


	6. 6

Shadows. The night air swirled through the dark leaves. Merlose sighed, and looked out across  
the expanse of perfect grass that was her back yard. Spring lilies were scattered across it, their  
delicate petals closed up to the night. The blade was silver and cool in her hands. She was  
looking at the scars. He had not helped.  
  
She thought that being with him could make her forget the pain. But it didn't. The red wasn't any  
sweeter, it still had that haunting echo. The stars watched her, sharp and distant, the little angel  
alone on the steps of her back porch with a knife in her pale hands. The ritual still wasn't broken,  
she had not found her peace. She touched the blade to her flesh and closed her eyes.   
  
~Danger. The darkness has finally caught up to you, angel.~  
  
She gasped, and opened her eyes, looking down at the long red cut on her arm. Blood, too much  
blood, and the knife...Strong fingers were clamped around her own, and then it was pulled from  
her grasp. She stumbled back, trying to get to her feet, but fell into the railing that ringed the  
porch.   
  
Holding on to it tightly, her knuckles white, she struggled to make out the dark form. A flame. A  
tiny seed of life and destruction flared. A lighter, and in the flame the woman's profile could be  
seen, the knife catching the flame in its silver blade.   
  
"C-Carroll?"  
  
Carroll turned and looked at Merlose, dropping her lighter, which fell between the spaced apart  
boards of the porch. Pure hate shone in her eyes, through the dim moonlight that filtered through  
the clouds.  
  
"Yeah, who would have guessed, eh?"  
  
She tossed the knife in the air, spinning, and caught it. Merlose started to look sincerely afraid,  
rooted to the spot though her instincts told her to get up and run.  
  
"Wondering what this is about? Afraid of me?" Suddenly her tone switched, from quiet menace  
to anger. "Well you should fucking know! If you weren't such a *bitch* I wouldn't even be here!  
Vincent, it's about Vincent. You're his little wingless angel, fallen to heaven for him."   
  
She walked a few steps towards her, even her footsteps looked strained, like she was stopping  
herself.   
  
"He's blinded himself, and you're leading him on towards heartbreak, again. I love him! And you  
don't! You don't deserve his love, you just happen to look like Lucrecia, you whore."  
  
Merlose got to her feet, holding her bleeding arm, and managed to look straight at Carroll,  
convinced the other woman wouldn't try anything.   
  
"So what, you think you're worthy of his love? I'm using him, but he's happy. In the years you've  
been living with him, how often were you able to say that, hm? You're just a junkie, even if I'm  
out of the picture you'll never be good enough for him either. That makes us alike in a way."  
  
~Merlose is the first to see the bond they share. Carroll will try to shatter it. The color red,  
spilled in scarlet indifference.~  
  
Carroll gave a little yell of rage and rushed Merlose, forcing her down to the floor. Flashes of hot  
white fury danced in front of her eyes, and she couldn't stop herself from bringing the knife down.  
  
Merlose cringed, and started to struggle away from Carroll, who was holding her down. Pain  
seared a line down her cheek and collarbone, from where the knife had grazed her. Smoke  
seemed to materialize from nowhere, slowing her down, making her move slow motion through a  
nightmare of pain and silver and stars.   
  
And now flames. Her struggles got weaker. Carroll looked delicate but her hand cut into  
Merlose's wrist, and she started to find it hard to breathe. Tears streamed down her face to mix  
with the blood and carve stinging marks of salt into the multiple cuts. She stopped struggling.  
  
~The memories, tinged with tears and bloodstains~  
  
Merlose remembered. She remembered what she had fought so long to forget. In flashes and  
captures, she remembered him. The first one, his messy black hair and his red, torn clothing. A  
small smile, but then the abuse...The way he hit her, the way he told her she was useless, and  
locked her out of the house. The long cold nights when she started to hate him...They had been  
married, and then he finally went too far.  
  
He was drunk, it was night, and the highway was long and black. Street lamps spotted the road,  
and he was pushing the speed limit. A scream, her own, crunching metal, screeching breaks, the  
musical shatter of glass. The accident. Then everything was black, and she never saw him again.   
The pain snapped her back to reality. Heat...  
  
Carroll was running, tripping over her feet, out of breath but not caring. She needed to get away  
from that place as fast as she could, and as far away from it as she could. She ran harder, despite  
the stitch in her side. Her pale hands were covered in blood, and stains splattered the black  
clothing she was wearing. She ran, letting the physical action block out the thoughts of him, the  
thoughts of what she had just done.   
  
The fire flickered stark in the evening air. Sirens started to wait in the distance, they had spotted  
the fire that was licking at the night sky, consuming the lovely grey and white trimmed house on  
the corner lot. The stars watched the passion play silently. Or perhaps they were laughing..  
  
Carroll tripped, and skinned her knee on the pavement in a dingy alley. She got to her feet,  
heading towards a cheap hotel she knew of, knowing she could not return home until much later.  
  
Vincent woke up from a deep sleep, and stared at the red satin lining on his coffin for a while. He  
had been dreaming about fire. A vague feeling of something being wrong crept up on him, but he  
forced himself to ignore it, and drifted back to sleep.  
  
~The victorious one is undecided. Carroll wanders alone...~  
  
...........................................................................................  
  
A week had passed. Vincent found himself at a loss for something to occupy him, the two  
women who seemed to occupy his free time had both disappeared. He idly sunk back into  
routine, going to work, paying bills, cooking, cleaning the apartment. At Carroll's absence, it had  
actually started to look very nice, lacking the inclination to disorder and chaos it usually has.   
  
He did not seek either out, yet it was Carroll he found himself worrying about more, reading the  
papers, wondering if something had happened to her. She was tied up in so many illegal messes,  
he was worried she was killed, or in prison somewhere. But then, he hadn't heard anything like  
that, so no news was good news.   
  
Then it happened. The newspaper article. It was lying harmlessly on an end table, with its little  
bold headline and small black and white photograph. The sun had not yet come up, and  
everything was painted in morning's cool hues. Vincent was making himself a cup of coffee when  
the picture caught his attention.   
  
He put down his cup and picked up the article, the bad feeling from that night, a week ago,  
returning to him.   
  
~Truth and deception~  
  
It was Merlose, smiling from what could have been a highschool picture, blurry and pixelized.   
Trying to shine her way from out of the darkness. Vincent was almost afraid to read the article.   
But it was too late.  
  
Woman assaulted and severely burned in fire.  
  
Things like this didn't happen. Not twice. His eyes skimmed down the lines of text, so neat and  
lined up. They didn't know how much this hurt. It said she had been cut repeatedly by knife  
wounds, and left for dead in the ensuing fire. The fingerprints had been identified from the  
weapon, which had been left at the scene. The culprit was being kept confidential until the trial.   
  
He tore out the article and folded it, putting it in his pocket. He swore that whoever had done  
this would not get away with it. Then he left his house, heading toward's Merlose's street.  
  
~Ashes to ashes. A spiderweb of circumstance, with the rose caught in the center, helpless.~   
  
The house was blackened, to contrast sharply with the strings of yellow caution tape strung up  
around the premise. He ignored them and approached her front steps. It was eerie, seeing it like  
this. Ghosts of candles, flickering along the edges of all the tables and lined up on the floor, the  
first night he had seen this place.   
  
Towards the back, the strings of yellow tape metamorphosesed into red, proclaiming Crime  
Scene. Vincent avoided the back porch, and instead walked back out. 


End file.
